Let me tell you a {true} story.

Once upon a time {a year ago} there was a woman who had moved from the land of bad drivers {Utah} to the other land of bad drivers {Alberta}. This woman was not a bad driver. She was careful and obeyed all the rules of the road. One such rule decreed that she must turn in her old driver’s license and replace it with one issued by the province. So off she went to do just that.

Upon applying for her new license she was informed that if she wanted a real, grown-up license she would need to show proof that she had been driving for much longer than her old license indicated. She would have to embark on a quest to retrieve a driving record from her original, home land {Ohio}.

So she did.

But then a mysterious spell was cast upon her that caused her to sleep {read: procrastinate} for a very long time. It wasn’t until the next summer that the spell was broken and she was able to apply again.

She and her handsome knight {who had to drive because he was the only one with a valid license} arrived at the office when the woman remembered she had forgotten her magic bag {wallet} which contained her old license. So they travelled back to their home to get it.

But then upon their {second} arrival they were told they needed proof that they were wed to show that the woman was indeed a resident of the land. So away they went once more.

Finally {on the third attempt in one day} they had success! The woman was granted a new license and there was much rejoicing…

…until she had to go back a fourth time because she dropped an important document on her way out.

And {despite all that} she drove happily ever after.

{not for the easily grossed-out}

My house is not the only thing I have a hard time keeping clean. My ears’ wax factories have been producing more wax than a bee on steroids. Seriously. I could not keep up. I had even committed the cardinal sin of ear care (never use Q-Tips). But it hadn’t helped. So I decided it was time to declare war and I bought some Murine.

I dutifully read the instructions, and enlisted Bear’s help (because I can’t see my own ear to see what I’m doing). In went the drops and…

GAAHHH! IT’S FIZZING!!! I can hear it fizzing!!! I didn’t know it was going to fizz!

My sane hubby tried to calm me down, which elicited the following violent outburst as I frantically squirted water in my ear:

It’s MY ear! It’s MY hearing! I CAN HEAR IT FIZZING!

To which he responded:

Do you really think they’d sell a product that could make you go deaf?

I responded with silence, the I’m-angry-but-I-know-you’re-probably-right kind of silence; the I-can’t-think-of-anything-to-say-without-looking-like-an-irrational-jerk-so-I’m-going-to-be-a-silent-irrational-jerk kind of silence.

That was several hours ago. We’ve moved on. I’m calm again. He’s graciously avoided ridiculing me (no matter how well deserved) for my outburst. Everything is peachy-keen.

Except that my ear still isn’t clean.

PS- What do you think I should do now?